


One Finger

by no_big_deal



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anonymous Sex, Developing Relationship, Dirty Talk, Drunk Sex, Drunkenness, F/M, Face-Sitting, Food, Karaoke, Light Angst, Marijuana, Negative Self Talk, No Babies, No Pregnancy, Oral Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Praise Kink, Relationship Negotiation, Self-Acceptance, Shame, Smut, Strangers to Lovers, Swearing, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:55:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28762149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/no_big_deal/pseuds/no_big_deal
Summary: “Look at him, Kaydel, I mean—” Rey bounced around her friend, suddenly lost for words as she caught the man’s eyes lingering on her butt. Her denim shorts cut daisy duke-style barely covered the underswell of her backside, and her arms and back were exposed by a tight and glittery rose-gold tank. She thanked her lucky stars she’d had the foresight to shave and apply lipstick and eyeliner that wouldn’t sweat off. “Judas Priest, just look at the size of his hands.”“Like he could make you come with one finger.”Rey blushed. Kaydel, as always, cut right to the chase.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 8
Kudos: 52
Collections: Reylo Readers & Writers - The Marvellous Moodboard Event





	One Finger

**Author's Note:**

> So many people to thank! First of course [GodSpeedRebels](https://www.twitter.com/RealAngelaWylie) for the amazing moodboard that inspired this fic! It was a great mix of fun and serious and I hope everyone enjoys the story it inspired!
> 
> Also thanks to [Rush](https://www.twitter.com/CreativesReylo) for giving my first draft a read-through and to [Em](https://www.twitter.com/noeticedda) for her vigorous beta that made this story make more sense and also grow a second chapter!
> 
> Finally big ups to the mods of [Reylo Readers & Writers](https://www.twitter.com/reylo_readers) group for pulling together this huge & fun event! Thanks for letting me slide in at the last minute and claim a moodboard. Can't wait for the next event!
> 
> Click on [ my profile](https://www.archiveofourown.org/users/no_big_deal/profile) to subscribe for future fics and chapters! Thank you!

When Rose came back to the table with a tray full of two dollar mojitos, Rey and her friends threw their arms in the air and cheered. The gang was together again—on a payday Friday _which just so happened_ to be ladies’ night—at the Cantina. It had worked out perfectly. Jess didn’t have to pick up any extra shifts. Jannah and Phas were in town, at the same time, for the first time all year. Kaydel had found a babysitter. Truly, the planets had aligned. Rey wiggled in her seat, desperately happy. They clinked glasses and she took her first sip: strong, sweet and minty. She was really looking forward to having some fun, and it was gonna be good: A hot summer night with the promise of dancing, karaoke, all the white rum she could stomach...

...And across the room, with his eyes fixed on her, was the tallest, broadest, most well-proportioned and striking _dish_ of a man she’d ever seen in real life. 

Oh heck yes. Tonight was gonna be good.

She was shaking her booty on the dance floor, catching his eye every chance she got, and she pointed him out to Kaydel. He held one of the mojitos in his huge mitt and the mason jar looked like a thimble with three of his thick fingers around it. 

“Look at him, Kaydel, I mean—” Rey bounced around her friend, suddenly lost for words as she caught the man’s eyes lingering on her butt. Her denim shorts cut daisy duke-style barely covered the underswell of her backside, and her arms and back were exposed by a tight and glittery rose-gold tank. She thanked her lucky stars she’d had the foresight to shave and apply lipstick and eyeliner that wouldn’t sweat off. “Judas Priest, just look at the size of his hands.” 

“Like he could make you come with one finger.” 

Rey blushed. Kaydel, as always, cut right to the chase. 

*~*~*~*~*

Fate, however, seemed intent on making the chase a marathon, not a sprint.

When she was on the dance floor, he was in conversation with his friends, a large group of young men each outrageously good looking in his own way. While he circled the dance floor, she was stuck in the drinks line, picking up the next round. She could see the top of his head above everyone else in the crowd. She closed her eyes and imagined him seeing the top of her head as she sucked his… She closed her eyes and forced herself to think the word _cock._ Sucked his _cock._

 _Dirty words led to dirty thoughts,_ her conscience nagged. But Rose encouraged the words and the thoughts— she had clearly picked up on Rey’s _Some Enchanted Evening_ vibe—and hadn’t shied away from voicing her opinion that Rey should do something about it.

“Rey, you’ve got to go talk to him—”

“No way.” Rey hated her inability to just get after what she wanted; the Plutts had raised a meek, good girl who didn’t easily assert herself. She’d left so much of that life behind, on purpose. She drank liquor. Even smoked the devil’s cabbage a time or two. She’d even had premarital sex... but old habits died hard. “Approach him? Gosh, no, it’s too forward, anyway he could be a serial killer—”

“Rey, please. He’s here with a huge group of friends, he’s not a serial killer.” 

“Shouldn’t _he_ approach _me,_ then?” Mother Plutt always harshly condemned young ladies who spoke to strange men as strumpets. 

“Rey, no way. You’re out with your girlfriends. No man with two braincells to rub together is going to be rude enough to interrupt girls’ night.”

So Rey knew the choice was hers. Rose was right. He was obviously gorgeous, apparently polite, and the look in his eyes made her _hungry._ Also, Kaydel was right. As hyperbolic as it sounded, he did look like he could make her come with one finger. She _did_ want to find out if he could. 

The lucky angel sitting on Rey’s shoulder —or maybe it was the devil—was observant and had impeccable timing. She’d been headed for the restrooms and caught sight of him further down the hall, phone by his ear. Rose’s words and the three mojitos in her stomach (tempered by the better part of two mozzarella sticks and a half plate of nachos) convinced her it was a good idea to follow him. 

As she caught up, he slid behind a beaded curtain that hung in an archway labeled _employees only._ With a grin of triumph, she slipped in behind him and tapped his shoulder. 

“Am I interrupting?” she asked as he turned, holding the phone away from his ear. 

“Not at all, just got a voicemail—” He smiled, his plush cherry lips pulling into a knowing curve that had her squirming in freshly soaked panties. “How is it possible that you’re even prettier up close?” he asked, as if she’d have a serious answer for such patent flattery.

“I’ve been thinking the same thing,” she said, inching closer to where he stood in the empty hallway. 

Color blazed high on his cheeks. “Your accent is amazing.” His eyes were the color of spiced rum and packed a hundred proof punch as they lured her into his personal space. “I’d been hoping to get the chance to talk to you tonight.”

“Is that right?” She ran her hands up his chest, laced her fingers behind his neck, and prayed he liked bold women. “Well, I was hoping you could make me come tonight.”

His eyes widened momentarily before narrowing on hers. “Is that so.” He made it a statement not a question, his voice a low, seductive murmur. His nose bumped hers softly. “Honestly, I’d been thinking the same thing.” She felt his words low in her belly, between her thighs, suddenly heavy and throbbing and needy.

“Appears we’re on the same wavelength,” she hummed as he pressed her against the wall, leaning down to nuzzle at her neck. 

“Good.” With a yank, he opened a nearby office door and quirked his eyebrow at her, chuckling lowly when she jogged through it, not even trying to hide her enthusiasm. And why should she?

Once the door was closed behind them, it was as if his skin was magnetic, attracting hers and not letting go. His lush, dangerous mouth latched onto hers, sucking and teasing her lips open, his tongue sliding against her teeth as he teased moans from her throat. 

“What do you want, baby?” he asked, moving his thigh between her legs. “Tell me what you were thinking out there.” His teeth scissored on the shell of her ear. “The looks you were sending me. I know you had something in mind.”

Golly, but this guy was going to be the end of her. She took a deep breath. “I was wondering if… if you could make me come with one finger.”

He huffed a little laugh in her ear. “Is that so?” he said again. This time, it seemed, it _was_ a question, though a rhetorical one. Regardless, Rey didn’t feel obligated to answer, not with her fingers tangled in his soft dark hair, not when she was busily sucking on his scratchy, masculine jaw. 

She went to move her hands down his chest and he stopped her. 

“Keep your hands up there, I like it,” he instructed, and who was she to object? With her arms raised, it was the work of a moment for him to slide those imposing hands into her tank and pull at her nipples. Sparks of sensation scampered between her breasts and her brain and she made embarrassing little squeaks as he palmed her. 

“Fuck,” he growled into her hair as her head fell back against the door with a _thunk._ “Hottest girl on the floor tonight has the sweetest fucking tits, I should have known.” He pinched her nipple—hard—and she shrieked on a deep inhale, her hands leaving his hair to grasp at the wall beside her head. “I’ll bet your pussy is as pretty as you are,” he added, almost accusatorially. “This snack you call an ass has been begging me to fuck it all night.”

“Hnngg,” was Rey’s contribution. Goodness gracious, _he_ sure didn’t have a problem with curse words. Rey’s gut curled around the curious sensation of liking how they sounded on his tongue, rough and _natural._

“Someday, sweetheart,” he crooned as Rey whimpered, his hands moving out of her shirt, down her belly to her jean’s button. “Someday I’ll lick that sugar pussy and eat that luscious ass and fuck you so good you'll forget your own name.” Her shorts fell open, as if by magic. “I’ll fuck you right, until you’re seeing stars, but tonight you only asked for one finger.”

“Please,” she moaned, angling her hips towards him. “I changed my mind. I want… all that stuff. Do those other things to me now.”

He chuckled, the bastard, and shook his head, swiping his tongue through her mouth as if sweeping her words away. “Not yet, sweetheart,” he cooed, smiling when Rey keened at the endearment. “Not yet.” 

His hot hand had wandered inside her shorts. He found her… womanhood. No, her _pussy,_ he called it a _pussy._ He palmed her pussy and ran one long finger through her dripping folds, pushing back to tickle her entrance and then pulling up to circle her clit. 

“For now you just get one finger,” he reminded her. “I want you to come like this,” he said, and his hand began to rock. “I want you to know—” he cut off as he kissed her again, masterful possession in his lips before he gentled the kiss. “I want you to remember that I was the guy who could do this.”

Only because his hands were so bulky, his fingers so solid, was this working at all. His middle finger wasn’t much smaller than an average guy’s penis and _oh my stars_ did he know how to use it. Flicking at her clit, teasing her entrance, tapping and rubbing just so against her g-spot—which he’d had no trouble finding. She felt her body trembling with need, and blood left her head in a rush.

Boneless, Rey melted into his arms and he picked her up and spun her until she was propped up on a desk, her arms behind her pressing up against potted plants and knocking aside an old typewriter. His finger pistoned in and out of her now in earnest and she whined, begging for more.

His eyes brightened as his face softened into a smile. “You’re gonna get what you asked for. Come for me, sweet thing.”

She did. Muscles twitching, clenching on his finger, her mouth fell open and she shouted her release as he stroked her clit through the aftershocks. 

When she was back inside her body, she stared up at him with big eyes. “Son of a nutcracker.”

“I liked that,” he hummed, pulling his hand from her shorts and quickly sucking his finger clean. “I liked that a lot.”

“Me too,” Rey agreed, feeling torpid and dumb-struck. “Yeah, me too.” She looked around the darkened office, illuminated only by the light of the hallway through frosted windows, and caught a glimpse of her reflection. “Shoot, I look like a wreck.” 

“Nah,” he disagreed with a smile. “Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen just keeps getting prettier,” he teased, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. He pulled her to her feet and helped her button her shorts. “But our friends are probably wondering where we are by now.”

“What about you?” she asked, licking her lips, eyes dipping down to his belt and back up. She didn’t have much practice, but maybe he’d call her a _good girl_ again if she tried— 

“I’ll take you up on that later, sweetheart,” he said, dropping a kiss on her lips, and that was grand. More of this later sounded splendid.

She nodded, slowly. “I’ll let you get back to that phone call.”

“I’ll come find you,” he whispered into her ear as he kissed her cheek. 

She swayed into him, patted his unfairly firm chest, and made sure to give her hips an extra wiggle as she walked away. 

Back in the noisy Cantina, Rey tucked another loose bit of hair back behind her ear. _Had that just happened?_ Mother Plutt would be apoplectic. But she straightened her shoulders and refused to feel ashamed. She hadn’t done anything wrong. Dr. Holdo had helped her see how the Plutts had used toxic shame to stifle her personality and interests—in all areas of her life. Fooling around with a guy you didn’t know might be a little reckless, but it didn’t make her a bad person. 

She clapped her hand to her forehead. She didn’t merely not know the guy—she hadn’t even caught his _name._ It certainly wasn’t _One Finger,_ she thought with a laugh. No worries, she’d ask him later. It would all work out. 

She had just about calmed herself down, when Rose grabbed her arm, squealed something about _their turn_ and hauled her up on stage for karaoke.

Rey laughed, accepting the proffered microphone from the DJ, feeling loose and confident as she looked to the screen to see what song they were singing. She wasn’t worried. Rose’s taste in music was excellent, and she tended to pick songs from the ‘90s that were crowd favorites, easy to sing. Hopefully, she’d chosen something really fun and sexy she could sing in One Finger’s direction, like _Are You That Somebody_ or _Damn, I Wish I Was Your Lover_ or, even _Push It._ Rey would not have to fake the moans required for that performance if she was looking in _his_ eyes while growling _“push it real good”_ into the mic. 

But Rey’s heart plummeted into her toes as a familiar acoustic guitar riff crested up the scale and then back down. Most people in the Cantina cheered as the opening notes wafted through the speakers and Rose began to sing. 

“A scrub is a guy who thinks he’s fly…”

Oh _fudgenuggets._ Why Rose, why? Why this song? Why not _Genie in a Bottle?_ What about _Spice Up Your Life?_

Rey scrambled to think of what to do, but her recent orgasm and current blood alcohol content made _thinking_ incredibly difficult. She couldn’t get past the terror of her first thought: How could she sing _No Scrubs_ when the guy who’d been party to the most delicious and risqué episode of her entire life was in the audience? 

How could she sing, “no, I don’t want your number, no, I don’t wanna give you mine,” in his direction and not have him get _entirely_ the wrong idea? He’d think she got her rocks off and was giving him the brush off via song—this was _bad._

Because she _did_ want to meet him somewhere. She _did_ want some of his time. One Finger was, most assuredly, _no scrub._

When Rose noticed Rey’s analysis paralysis, she gave her a questioning, concerned look. Rey swallowed; there was no getting off this train apparently. She grasped the mic in both hands, faced her friend, and belted out the chorus. It was only a few minutes of singing. 

But when she looked for him afterwards, he was gone. 

*~*~*~*~*

The next morning, after chugging some Gatorade, she felt human enough to roll out with Rose to meet Phasma and Jannah for brunch before they took off. Over chicken and waffles and a little hair of the dog, she confessed her backroom escapade with One Finger much to everyone’s delight—and then dashed it with the confession that she hadn’t caught his name and that he’d disappeared during _No Scrubs._

“I don’t know,” she said, pushing the last piece of waffle through the syrup on her plate. “If he’d been any less incredible I might not even care, but—” She scuffed her feet against the floor, biting back the thought that he hadn’t stuck around because she wasn’t worth it. People promising to come back for her and then abandoning her was kind of the story of her life. Why should One Finger be any different? 

“If he wasn’t smart enough to get your number, he doesn’t deserve you,” Phas declared unequivocally. 

“For all I know,” Rey sighed glumly, “he spends every Friday night loitering at the end of that hallway making eyes at people and he never came back out since it’s one girl after another—” She didn’t finish as Rose and Jannah’s denials drowned her out. 

“No way, no way,” Rose declared as Jannah added, “You know the Cantina staff looks out for women. They’re always kicking out aggressive or creepy guys, they’re good with security. That place would never allow—” and Rey was forced to agree. 

The waitress brought their check and while everyone argued over who was treating who to brunch, Rey pulled out her small wallet and— 

“Oh, fudgesicles,” she murmured, pulling open all the zippered pockets and double checking all the little spaces where she kept her cards.

“What’s wrong?” Phas asked.

“I can’t find my debit card—” she gave a little gasp. “Son of a monkey’s uncle. I must have left it at the Cantina last night.”

*~*~*~*~*

Head down, Rey strolled down the street, back towards the Cantina after wishing Jannah and Phas safe travels and promising to keep Rose posted on her attempt to recover her card. 

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” she berated herself as she rounded the corner. “Stupid, drunk, stupid.” She’d had to wait until three that afternoon for the Cantina to open and even though she’d parked just down the block, the walk felt like an interminable journey. She hadn’t caught One Finger’s name. She’d insulted him with her karaoke. He’d ghosted her. She’d lost her debit card. Stupid.

Just outside the door to the Cantina, a glint of light caught her eye; a penny on the sidewalk. Lucky side up. Out of habit, she picked it up and dropped it in her pocket. 

She walked up to the wooden doorway with its trendy, yet authentic-looking wrought iron handle and let herself in. The place was empty save for the bartender, an immense, long-haired, bearded human that more resembled a sasquatch than a man. He was wiping down glassware and nodded in greeting to Rey. 

She was about to say hello when she realized the man was in conversation with someone crouched down behind the bar, working on some of the equipment.

“So what am I supposed to do, Uncle Chewie?” A baritone voice was saying, annoyance and effort pitching his voice slightly higher than Rey remembered it, she realized with a shock. “I don’t know her name, I don’t have her number. All I know is she’s fucking gorgeous—” the sound of squeaking pipes interrupted the tirade. “And she has a British accent.” 

“I dunno Ben, sounds like a conundrum to me,” the large man responded—obviously _he_ was Uncle Chewie—and set down the glass he’d been drying. He glanced down at the floor and then back over at Rey who was stuck on _Ben, Ben, cheese and crackers, his name is Ben._ “Can I help you, miss?” 

“Hello,” she managed, “I think I left my debit card here last night?” 

A loud _thunk_ echoed from under the bar, followed by a curse. Nonplussed, Chewie looked back at the floor, extended a hand, and helped Ben stand. One hand was pressed to the back of his head and a sliver of his belly was visible above his blue jeans. His eyes were wide and his face was white as a sheet. He stood there, frozen for a moment before wiping his hands, _those hands,_ on his plaid flannel, open over a tight white t-shirt. 

“That accent—it’s—” He smiled, wide and sort of dopey. _“Hi.”_

Rey gave him a little wave. 

“Miss?” Uncle Chewie interrupted their shared eye-gazing reverie. “What’s the name?” He shot Ben a look as if to say _see how easy that was?_

“Rey Niima,” she laughed, nervously. “Two ‘i’s.”

“And a very pretty pair they are,” Uncle Chewie said with a wink. His hand came down on Ben’s shoulder as he passed, chuckling _“god damn Solo luck,”_ as he walked down the length of the bar towards the register. He began digging through a small box, presumably looking for Rey’s card.

Ben cleared his throat and Rey turned back towards him, wondering how exactly this would play out. 

“So,” Ben began, “the voicemail I was listening to. Turns out it was from my dad, saying my mom fell and he was taking her to the twenty-four hour urgent care.” _Mother of pearl._ Rey’s hands flew to cover her mouth as he continued. “I didn’t even come back through the bar, I texted Poe—one of my friends—that I had to take off and left out the back exit.” 

Rey rubbed her forehead fighting the conclusion that she was so self-centered thinking he’d ditched her because of an unfortunate karaoke selection. 

“By the time I’d met up with my parents and got them home from the doctor’s, it was way after 2am, and…” he rolled his lips between his teeth, holding them there for a fraught moment before releasing them. They were bright red from the pressure. “Well, when I realized I hadn’t even caught your name—” 

“Is your mom okay?” Rey interrupted; she felt like she should ask and Ben grinned wryly. 

“She’s fine,” he confirmed. “My dad’s message was something like _she fell down the stairs_ so I was imagining the worst—but it turns out she’d rolled an ankle heading down the _one step_ into the backyard. Anything involving my mom brings out the dramatics in my dad.” He flushed. “It’s not a bad thing.”

“No,” Rey agreed, giving him a smile. “It sounds sweet.”

“Yeah, yeah, it is. They're crazy about each other, always have been.”

There was silence for a moment as Rey considered this new side of him. A person with a loving family. He had a dad who texted him. He worried about his mom. Her sad neglected heart wanted in on that action, and Rey had to remind herself that in reality, she owed him an orgasm, and even though he’d taken off for a good reason, it probably just meant they were even. 

“I’m so, so sorry—” he began. 

“Please don’t apologize—”

“My name’s Ben Solo,” he interrupted, speaking quickly, forcing the words out. “I work here at the Cantina. You caught me outside my office last night—”

“That was _your_ office?” Rey wasn’t sure if that made everything better or worse. 

“I wasn’t working last night, but yeah, my desk,” he blushed. “And you’re Rey.” Confidence swelled through his frame. He stood taller, running his hands through his hair, pushing it off his face. “I’d love to get your number, Rey Niima.” He said her name with intention, as if he was bound and determined to never forget it.

“Here’s your card,” said Chewie, somehow appearing out of nowhere. 

“Oh, thank you.” Rey pocketed the plastic before asking, “Wait, don’t I have an account to settle, a receipt to sign or something?”

Chewie shrugged, walking off. “I put it on Ben’s tab,” he called over his shoulder. “Sounds like he owes you one.”

“Thanks Uncle Chewie,” Ben agreed, not taking his eyes off Rey, who was hoping Ben didn’t mind paying for her few drinks, blushing when she remembered her tab included three orders of mozzarella sticks. But she also remembered he’d wanted _more_ than what they’d done last night. 

So did she.

“So…” Rey stuck out her chin and looked around the bar. “Are you working now?”

*~*~*~*~*

Ben’s apartment was just down the street from the Cantina, one of those trendy downtown lofts with exposed piping and brushed metal appliances and dark wood everything. His bedroom was tidy, Rey noted with approval, but that's all she was able to notice about the room before she found herself mostly naked, ass up on the bed, with Ben wordlessly seeking her approval for something else entirely.

Within seconds, his lips converged on her slit, his tongue dipping in deep. Rey fisted the sheets and squirmed on her knees as Ben ate at her from behind, broad, sucking licks until her legs were quivering and she was begging for more. Pulling off his shirt, he rolled underneath her, tugging at her legs until she was sitting on his face.

 _Jiminy Crickets._ Ben’s eyes and nose peeked out from between the fleshiest part of her thighs, pressed tight against his cheeks. His hands squeezed, kneading her legs as he sucked on her clit. She grabbed onto the headboard with a groan. 

Eventually, his hands moved to cup her ass, rocking her back and forth, encouraging her to bounce and grind on his face. His fingers danced tantalizingly close to her asshole, before sliding around her hip. She felt his fingers trail through the wetness coursing down her thighs, and his chin digging into her core.

His nose tickled the hair on her mound, he was groaning with pleasure, and she was brazen and brave. “You like that?” She asked, her heart dancing on a ledge, dangerous and vivid. She was bursting with powerful joy; sexy, unstoppable. “You like me riding your face?”

He made encouraging, repetitive _mmm-hnn_ noises as she rocked over his nose and lips, tingles dancing from her toes to her nose as his relentless tongue lapped her up greedily. 

With a roar, she circled her hips and he crushed his face into her, the heat of his breath burning her up from the inside out. She felt her clit throbbing as she came, felt entirely out of control as she screamed through her teeth, her knuckles white around his headboard.

Sliding down to the bed, she looked at him in awe. “Great gravy boats, you’re good at that.”

“Fuck, I could go for…” he glanced at the clock. “Probably another twenty minutes,” he smirked over her giggles as he rolled to his side, looming over her, collecting her in his arms and she dared to get comfortable. “But I’d like to get to know you, Rey, maybe take you to dinner tonight, if—” He cut off as Rey’s eyes widened. “But you don’t have to say yes.” He hastily added. “You just wanted to hook up? That’s fine. I mean, that’s great. Shit. Sorry. I’m making this awkward—”

Rey pressed her fingertips to his lips. “You want to get to know me?”

He nodded. “Very much so.” When she continued to gape at him, he explained. “You’re gorgeous and easy to talk to. You’re sweet and funny, I mean last night you screamed _aw, sugar cookies_ when you came, and—” 

She put her hand back over his mouth. Her use of g-rated swear words wasn’t sweet; nothing left over from her upbringing with the Plutts was worth keeping. But he didn’t know that. Maybe she’d tell him. Maybe not. But in the meantime— 

“Will you teach me how to—” She took a deep breath. “Will you teach me how to say _fuck_ the way you do?”

“You need a teacher?” Ben’s eyes searched hers for a quiet moment until he found what he was looking for. “Ah, sweetheart, I see.” He kissed her forehead. “You’re a good girl,” he chuckled as she settled in his arms, heart pounding madly. “Yes, you need a teacher.”

Rey closed her eyes, centering herself, breathing deep. He would teach her. Relief coursed through her. He could teach her to curse in bed. 

That way, the next guy she was with wouldn’t think she was repressed, or a good little girl, or a sweet little _anything._

**Author's Note:**

> My goodness Rey! The next what now? My, my I wonder what Ben will think about _that_.
> 
> Thank you for reading! If I missed anything that needed to be tagged, please let me know. I'm hoping not to have to add any new tags for chapter 2, but if that turns out not to be the case, I'll say so in the chapter notes!
> 
> [No Scrubs](https://youtu.be/FrLequ6dUdM)!
> 
> Come say hi, my twitter is [@spoonfulofsalad](https://www.twitter.com/spoonfulofsalad)! I look forward to hearing your thoughts on this fic.


End file.
